


Shot in the Dark

by TheRedshirtWhoLived



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alcohol, Body Shots, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Fluff and Smut, Laughter During Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:21:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28163115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedshirtWhoLived/pseuds/TheRedshirtWhoLived
Summary: "Maeve grins and bounces in her seat at her friend’s antics. “Ooh, body shots!” she exclaims. “I haven’t done those since I was a baby arcanist.”Thancred’s mouth works soundlessly for several seconds. “Did you just say you’ve done body shots?” he squeaks.In that moment, he reminds Maeve of a stunned ox, and she practically falls out of her chair laughing. “Darling, I was raised by the Upright Thieves,” she giggles. “OfcourseI know how to do body shots.”"or, Thancred, Maeve, and surprises.
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Shot in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Welcome to my first EVER work of smut. *bongo cat emoji*
> 
> I'd like to thank my lovely beta, WickedWiles, and the lovely people of the Bookclub. Wicked, Hawk, Blue, Quinn, all, I could not have written this without your support and encouragement.

The night after Zenos yae Galvus’ death, the Ala Mhigan Resistance and their allies in the Scions of the Seventh Dawn throw the party of the epoch. A Resistance member offers the use of his family’s tavern for the occasion. Rhaya Bajhiri brings out her lyre and extensive repertoire of drinking songs. The Maelstrom soldiers who’d helped take the capital provide a _spectacular_ variety of spirits, including one top-shelf whiskey which bore the seal of one M. B. (When questioned on its provenance, the Sea Wolf Roegadyn who’d brought it merely winks.) The tavern thrums with life, laughter, and joy. Maeve Rivers sits at a table in the corner, and for the first time in a long, long, time, she feels nothing but peace.

It has taken months of blood and tears and death, but she and her friends have done it. They have liberated Ala Mhigo and Doma. They’ve defeated the crown prince of Garlemald himself. They have _earned_ a celebration, Maeve figures. “And I, for one, plan to enjoy it,” she murmurs under her breath.

“Enjoy what, love?” As he slides into a chair across from her, Thancred flashes her a devilish smile that sends heat dancing down her spine. The kiss he presses to her palm drives that heat even lower.

“Just…this,” she answers. “No primals to slay, no legions to challenge. Just our friends, happy and healthy.”

“I know what you mean,” he chuckles. “I haven’t been to a party like this in…gods, I can’t even remember.”

Maeve pats his cheek fondly. “Well, if you’re looking to remember how to celebrate, this is certainly a fine place to begin.”

A hubbub over by the bar draws their attention before Thancred could respond. They look over to find Lyse hefting a bottle full of a familiar golden liquid above her head.

“My father bottled this the year of the conquest!” she calls. A wave of cheers and raised glasses interrupts her, and she graciously waits for the noise to subside before continuing. “My father bottled this cactus dew the year of the conquest, and when the legions swept over Ala Mhigo, he vowed that none would taste its contents until Ala Mhigo knew freedom once again. Well, my friends, Ala Mhigo is _free!_ ” This time, the cheers shake the rafters, and Lyse has to bang a tankard against the bar several times before she can continue. She pulls out a bottle opener and prizes the cap off before pouring some of the cactus dew into a shot glass and knocking it back. Her eyes widen as the drink goes down. “That’s…that’s some damn good cactus dew,” she coughs. “All right, who wants some?”

Revelers swarm the bar for a shot of the cactus dew, and Lyse doles them out with a smile on her face. Rhaya sidles up to the bar bearing a salt-shaker, a plate of lime wedges, and a shite-eating grin. “Want to spice this up a bit, Lyse?” she purrs.

Lyse beams in response. “Oh, I’m game with you are!” She pours a glass of cactus dew, sets it down on the bar, then hops over it, extending her arm for Rhaya. The Mi’qote bard shakes some salt onto the back of Lyse’s outstretched hand, then places a slice of lime above the salt. Tossing back the shot with a grin, she bends over Lyse’s hand for a moment before straightening up with the lime wedge between her teeth.

Maeve grins and bounces in her seat at her friend’s antics. “Ooh, body shots!” she exclaims. “I haven’t done those since I was a baby arcanist.”

Thancred’s mouth works soundlessly for several seconds. “Did you just say you’ve done body shots?” he squeaks.

In that moment, he reminds Maeve of a stunned ox, and she practically falls out of her chair laughing. “Darling, I was raised by the _Upright Thieves,_ ” she giggles. “Of _course_ I know how to do body shots.”

Thancred’s hazel eye _blazes_ as he looks at Maeve, and the grin on his face promises that one way or another, he will make her a very happy woman if she only says yes. “Show me?” he whispers.

“As you wish,” she coos, rising from the table in one sinuous motion and saunters towards the bar. The desire crackling between them lends an extra sway to her hips, and Maeve luxuriates in the way Thancred watches her arse for a few heated seconds before scrambling to follow.

Lyse greets her with a conspiratorial grin, a wedge of lime, and a shot of cactus dew sitting on the bar. Maeve grabs a salt shaker off one of the tables and extends a hand to Thancred. He takes it, clearly expecting her to do as Rhaya had and shake the salt onto his hand.

Tonight, Maeve does not wish to meet expectations. 

She tugs Thancred close, spins them around, and pushes him up against the bar, bringing her torso flush against his. Maeve appreciates him for a shameless moment, all heat and solidity and the smell of leather and woodsmoke. She looks up to meet his wide-eyed, excited gaze and finds no fear in his eye. So she ghosts her lips against his in a feather-light kiss that has him leaning towards her after she pulls back, hoping for more. “Trust me?” Maeve breathes.

“ _Always,_ ” he rasps, and just like that, she’s fallen in love with him all over again.

Working quickly, Maeve undoes the top button on Thancred’s shirt and pulls it open. His pulse jumps under her fingers as she reveals the elegant line of his collarbone. Maeve’s gut tightens as she notices the light sheen of sweat covering his tanned skin, the result of the heat of the room and the heady anticipation of the moment. _She’d_ created that anticipation, and the realization of it stokes the fire within her and drives her ever onward.

Carefully, Maeve shakes some salt into her cupped hand, then licks the two first fingers of her other hand. Thancred’s eyes darken further as he watches the movement of her lips and tongue, but she ignores him, too focused on the task at hand. She dips her moistened fingers into her handful of salt, making sure to pick up a good amount before she runs those fingers along the line of his shoulder. She paints a stripe of coarse sea salt over his skin, just begging to be licked. Thancred bites his lip, presumably to choke back a moan. Maeve clicks her tongue absently-that just won’t _do_.

Shaking her head, Maeve slides the same fingers she’d used to brush salt onto her lover’s skin over Thancred’s lower lip. She represses the shot of pure _want_ that lances through her at the sheer softness of his lip and gently pulls his mouth open, popping a lime wedge between his teeth before he can suck her fingers into his mouth. She snickers at his wounded expression before grabbing the shot glass waiting for her on the bar.

Maeve holds Thancred’s gaze for a long, fraught moment before tossing back the shot. The woodsy, bitter cinnamon taste of the cactus dew burns down her throat, but Maeve’s already moving, tangling her hand in Thancred’s silvery-blonde hair and pulling. His whimper becomes a full-on moan as she bends to mouth at his neck. Maeve licks up the line of salt, reveling in the way it mixes with the alcohol and the indescribable taste of him to create something truly irresistible. Regretfully, she pulls away from his skin, though not before nipping him playfully. He yelps at the pressure of her teeth before freezing as she looks him in the eye once again.

Maeve will offer him no quarter. She sways forward, a prelude to a kiss. Thancred’s eyes flutter closed. He tilts his face downwards to receive her.

Just before their lips met, she bites down and plucks the lime wedge from his mouth, leaving Thancred utterly un-kissed. The lime juice bursts across her palate, sweet and tangy, and she smirks as she looks back at him. Her victorious expression crumbles as she beholds the dark promise in his hazel eye. He will get her back for this before the night’s end, and she’s going to love it.

“Want to return the favor, love?” Maeve barely recognizes the throaty voice issuing from her mouth. That voice belonged to a temptress, a woman who could bring a man to his knees and make him love it all the while.

Thancred looks back at her as a worshiper looks at his goddess, as if everything he’d ever wanted had been laid out before him. “ _Twelve,_ yes,” he growls. Maeve actually sways with the want his voice calls forth. Then, his arms are around her, and he’s helping her up onto the bar.

Maeve had removed her tailored jacket at the beginning of the party, and she thanks her past self for her foresight as she hurriedly unbuttons the cream blouse she wears underneath. Even as the last button slides from its hole, Thancred’s hands brush against her sides. He guides the fabric to lie crumpled against the bar and takes a moment to drink her in. The weight of his regard might as well have been a touch, for where his eyes went, the flush spilling over her skin follows. Maeve props herself up on her elbows, only for Thancred to stop her with a gentle hand. “I’ll need you to stay very still for this, Maeve,” he says with a smirk that offers trouble of the very best kind.

When he asks her like that, how can she do anything but obey?

The cold cactus dew splashing into her belly button does absolutely nothing to quell the inferno raging beneath her skin. Then, Thancred dips two fingers in salt and _drags_ them in one devastatingly slow motion along the length of her scar from Rhalgr’s Reach. As the salt crystals dust her skin, obeying him becomes that much harder, and something within her _sings_ in exultation. Thancred balances the lime wedge atop one of her breasts and prowls back down her body, and when her blue eyes meet his hazel one, the hunger that screams within her is reflected on his face.

He bends to his task, sealing those plush pink lips over her navel and _sucking_. Maeve’s been yearning for his mouth on her for so long, and she feels her hips trying to rise into his touch as surely as if he’s pulling on a string tied at the small of her back. But Thancred told her to stay still, and she wants so very _badly_ to do as he says. Maeve is a warm statue under his mouth, quivering between competing instincts, even as he swirls his tongue against her in search of the last drops of cactus dew clinging to her skin.

Thancred’s mouth leaves her skin, and Maeve briefly stifles a whimper before letting out a gasp as he flicks his clever tongue over the line of salt. As the salt vanishes into his mouth, Maeve can’t help but curl her toes in her boots. He slides one warm arm around her back. She sighs happily and relaxes into him, letting those clever fingers weave into her hair and support her head. Thancred smiles almost proudly at her reaction, and she can’t help but preen beneath his approval.

As soon as Thancred licks up the last of the salt, he redirects his attention to the wedge of fruit perched atop her breast. The hand in her hair tightens as he swoops down over it, and then he’s scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin as he sweeps the fruit into his mouth. Before the sensation can really sink in, Thancred’s already straightening up and tossing the rind into a bowl full of them.

Maeve rolls onto one elbow to admire him properly. “How was that?” she asks.

Thancred wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, maintaining eye contact the whole time. “Absolutely delicious,” he growls, and _oh_ how the husky tone of his voice makes her want him even more! “But there are other things I’d rather drink from you.”

His words set her aflame, and she clambers off the bar, taking his hand and leading him towards a stairway in the back. “I’ve a room upstairs. Care to join me?”

He doesn’t reply, only quickens his steps.

The minute Maeve’s door shuts behind them, Thancred turns and pins her up against the wall. All the passion, all the _want_ that he’d been repressing downstairs, he turns it on her now as he presses kiss after desperate kiss against her face and neck. Maeve wraps her legs around him and drinks deep of his desire for her. Thancred’s steel-hard beneath his trousers, and as he bucks that burning hardness against her core, Maeve tosses her head back and lets out a needy gasp. He grins against her neck, and his voice dances with laughter and desire when he asks if she’s enjoying herself.

Maeve wants to tell him that if they aren’t naked against the sheets in the next minute, she will not be held responsible for her actions. But desire has stripped away her words, so Maeve settles for grabbing a handful of Thancred’s hair and yanking his head back so she can look him in the eye. “Bed. _Now,_ ” she hisses.

He laughs, but he also wheels around and deposits her on the soft mattress behind them, so Maeve can’t be too mad. Thancred unbuckles the belts winding around his torso, unbuttons his shirt, and lets the garments fall to the floor with a soft _thump_ as he crawls onto the bed to join her. Another time, Maeve might have reached out to run her hands over his lithe, muscular torso, kissed the old white scars crisscrossing his frame to replace painful memories with dreams of her love. Tonight, though, Maeve’s just too keyed up to bother with such things. Her own hands busy themselves pulling her shirt the rest of the way off and unlacing the strings keeping her breastband together. She’s only just tossed them aside before Thancred’s on top of her, lavishing her collarbone with affection and cupping a breast in one large, callused hand.

If Thancred was warm pressing against her at the bar, he’s downright searing now that he and Maeve are skin to skin. Thancred slants his mouth over hers and sucks her bottom lip into his mouth. She opens for him with a keening moan. Thancred answers by flicking her tongue over the roof of her mouth and pulling her leg up over his hip, bringing his erection back into contact with her clothed cunt. They both moan at the sensation, and for a few seconds they’re just panting into each other’s mouths, frantically rocking together.

Then, Thancred rubs at her nipple until it hardens, and Maeve’s head falls back against the pillows with a contented sigh. That sigh sharpens into a squeak as he pinches it lightly, sending a jolt of levin through her. Before the jolt can mature into real pain, he’s suckling at her nipple, nurturing the spark he’d created into a wave of flame that spreads through her. She clutches him close and rolls her hips against him. The groan that pulls from him vibrates through her breast. It feels absolutely _wonderful_ , and Maeve’s hands scrabble wildly over Thancred’s shoulders and back. He cups her other breast, weighs and molds it in his hand, and then he’s suckling at it with deep long pulls of his mouth. Maeve _burns_ for him, and she tries to tell him as much, but her words spill out of her in a broken babble of _yes_ and _please_ and _more._

But Thancred, clever, _wonderful_ Thancred, seems to get the message just fine. One of his hands glides down her side and traces the arch of her back before alighting on the swell of her arse. He contents himself with a quick squeeze before turning his attentions to her belt. Once Thancred’s intentions break through the haze of need melting Maeve’s thoughts, he finds her entirely cooperative. Her hands slide from his shoulders to join his at her waist, and together, they manage to wriggle her trousers and smalls off without accidentally kneeing Thancred somewhere unfortunate or pulling a muscle in Maeve’s torso and legs.

The cool air of the room has barely kissed Maeve’s newly exposed cunt before Thancred scrambles down the bed and slings her legs over his shoulders. “Thal’s gilded balls, but you’re beautiful,” he whispers.

Maeve can’t help but bark out a laugh. “You’re saying this _now,_ while you’re staring at my vagina?” 

From between her legs, Thancred shoots her an unrepentant grin. “Well, I have to see all of you to get the full effect. Aren’t you the one always going on about taking into account all possible variables?”

Maeve props herself up on one elbow and strokes a nonexistent beard with her free hand. “Well, such thorough scrutiny is indeed the cornerstone of intellectual progress.” Both of them dissolve into paroxysms of laughter, and Thancred rests his forehead against her thigh while he pulls himself together.

When he raises his head to look at her, his eyes still dance with mirth, but the rest of him is all want. “Now, then, I believe I said something about drinking from you…”

Thancred wastes no time in burying his face between her legs. He sucks her folds between his lips, sucking at them just long enough to pull a keen from Maeve’s throat and fresh bursts of slick from her core. Not satisfied with this, he shifts to lap directly at her entrance and tilt her hips so that the tip of his nose rubs against her clit. She’s _wailing_ for him, but he’s not exactly being quiet either. Thancred’s letting out satisfied moans that rumble through her, and Maeve can only knot her fingers in his hair and squirm against his face, desperately seeking more.

Thancred knows her body as well as he knows his name, and he reads her wordless pleas perfectly and slides a calloused finger inside her. Maeve whines and grinds herself against his hand. His finger wriggles inside her, seeking the spots that send pleasure rocketing through her body. Thancred finds one and strokes at it, punching a drawn-out whimper from deep within her. Maeve’s voice chokes off in disappointment as he slides his finger out and she clenches around nothing. Thancred does not leave her wanting for long, sliding two fingers into her and scissoring them to stretch her out. Her happy sigh rises to a drawn-out moan as he licks over her clit and slides a third finger inside her. Thancred fucks them into her, hard, and she breaks into a high, thin keen, his ministrations drawing her ever closer to the brink. Her climax lurks on the edge of her mind, like a fast-approaching sunrise, and she claws at Thancred, the sheets, anything she can reach as she clenches and squirms against him.

“ _Fuck,_ Thancred,” she cries, “’m so close please please just make me come…”

He crooks his fingers against that spot within her that sends shivers rippling across her skin at the same time as he seals his lips around her clit and _sucks_. Maeve’s world narrows down to the feeling of his mouth and fingers working at her. Thancred moans around her, and the vibrations echo through her and push her headlong into orgasm. Her mind goes blank as she screams her pleasure to the rafters. 

When Maeve comes back to herself, Thancred has removed his pants and smalls and is resting his head on her stomach. He’s taken off his eyepatch to reveal his silvered eye, and Maeve could cry from the intimacy and trust the gesture shows. She hauls him up her body to rest her forehead against his. “So, how do I compare to the cactus dew?” she giggles.

Thancred crushes his lips against hers, and she moans at the taste of herself on his tongue. When he pulls back, they’re both grinning like fools. “Mm, you taste so much better,” he laughs. But through the hilarity of the moment, Thancred’s still hot and hard against her hip, and her desire comes roaring back to life.

Maeve wraps her legs around Thancred’s waist and flips them over, reveling in the look on his face. Thancred’s eyebrows have climbed into his hairline. However, the grin painting his face is nothing short of delighted, and his cock twitches with interest against her inner thigh. He may not have expected this turn of events, but he certainly isn’t complaining. He makes a grab for her hips, but Maeve pins his wrists at his sides.

Even when he’s at her mercy like this, Thancred can’t resist the temptation to be a smart-arse. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t _ooh fuck-_ “ He trails off into a whimper as Maeve rubs herself over him, biting her lip at the way he rubs against her clit.

Maeve opens her eyes once she’s reasonably certain of her ability to speak. “You were saying, love?” she taunts as she continues to tease him. Thancred’s certainly not saying much right now, biting his lip and tossing his head back and forth against the pillows. As attractive a sight as he is like this, Maeve wants him speechless for entirely different reasons.

“Thancred, darling?” she coos as she takes his cock in her hand and rubs the tip of him against her entrance. “I want to hear you.” She sinks down on his cock with a shaky moan, trembling at the sweet, burning stretch as she takes him in. Thancred isn’t doing much better. He’s gripping at her hip hard enough that she might have bruises in the morning, and the low, worshipful way he says her name has her clenching around him. Shaking, Maeve rolls her hips against him. The motion makes him hit spots that send new levinbolts searing her blood. Thancred’s eyes slam open, blazing with need. He bucks up into her thrusts, and she chokes out a curse, throwing out her hand to balance herself on his chest. Her fingers curl into claws, although her short nails leave no mark.

Both Thancred’s hands rest on her hips now, and he can’t look away from her, eyes flitting between the bounce of her breasts and the exultant snarl on his love’s face. “Yes, that’s it,” he growls. “You- _ah!_ \- feel so good like this, just taking your pleasure from me…”

Maeve only moves faster at his words, letting out moans and whines and pleas for more as he throbs inside her. Thancred leans up to kiss at one of her breasts, and she presses herself forward into the contact. The motion changes the angle of him inside her just so. Maeve tells him as much in a breathless spill of words, and Thancred grins against her breast before planting his feet against the mattress and thrusting right against that spot. Each thrust of his hips sets her aflame, and then he’s sliding a hand between them to rub circles around her clit and Maeve goes careening over the edge with a scream of his name. Thancred sits up to hold her close, and the added stimulation draws out her orgasm. As Maeve flutters through the aftershocks, he bucks into her once, twice, thrice, and then he’s coming too, moaning out a combination of curse words and her name as his seed fills her.

They float back down from their highs tangled in each other’s arms. Maeve can’t stop smiling as she nuzzles at Thancred’s face. “I love you so damn much, you know that?” she whispers.

His kiss is promise and balm and benediction all at once. “I love you too.”


End file.
